


Injury Time

by scribblemoose



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-21
Updated: 2004-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:04:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	Injury Time

Quistis stretched, rolling the tension out of her tired shoulders. Training with Squall was always demanding, but today was the most challenging session they'd had for a long time. Now she wanted more than anything to slip into a nice hot tub with some of that expensive bubble bath Rin had sent from Deling, and a good book. Possibly a glass of wine, also.

She took a look at Squall, who was cleaning grat innards off his gunblade with such ferocity it was making the weapon glow blue, responding to Squall's anger and the harsh friction of rough cloth on smooth metal.

Quistis sighed. It looked like she wouldn't be getting her bath just yet, after all. "Squall?"

Squall looked up, eyes glittering silver through his ragged bangs.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Squall, and went back to his cleaning.

"Don't mess with me, Commander. I've known you most of your life. I can tell the difference between post-training residual aggression and plain pissed off."

Squall glared at her again.

"Hyne save us, Squall, but sometimes talking to you is like dealing with some kind of feral child that was raised by wolves." Quistis selected a flattish, not too uncomfortable-looking rock, and brushed the worst of the dirt off it before she sat down. She crossed her long legs, hugged her knees and waited.

Squall carried on with his cleaning, silent for so long that Quistis would have given up and gone for her bath after all, had she not known him so well.

"Irvine's being an asshole," Squall said, finally.

Quistis raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes, I know," said Squall. "It's not easy for him, broken ankle, sprained wrist, confined to quarters, blah blah. But the man is such a whinger. You'd think no-one had ever had injuries before."

"Well, in a way, we haven't."

"What?" said Squall in startled disbelief.

"Not real, long-lasting ones. When was the last time you had an injury that wasn't healed by magic?"

Squall's fingers went automatically to stroke the faded scar between his brows. "So what, you think I should break the rules and get Irvine healed because he's my boyfriend?"

"No, of course not. But I imagine it's a strain for him. Frustrating, knowing he could be better in an instant, if only-"

"He brought it on himself," said Squall stubbornly. "There's nothing I can do."

Quistis looked at him for a moment, fighting down an urge to shake the boy by his shoulders until he saw sense.

"Of course there is. You love him, don't you?"

Squall flushed scarlet, and stared at his feet. "Mmm," he mumbled.

"Then for goodness sake cut him some slack, Squall, and have some sympathy for once."

Squall shrugged his shoulders in that maddening way of his, and Quistis wondered for a moment why she even bothered. Squall could be so infuriating, and so incredibly dense when it came to relationships.

Except that she knew why he found it so difficult, and she'd had a glimpse of just how deep his feelings ran, despite his inability to articulate them, and she knew he tried damn hard to get over it. Especially for Irvine.

"Have you talked about the accident?" she asked.

"Only at the disciplinary."

Quistis sighed. She'd guessed as much. "You know, it could be that he needs you to forgive him."

Squall looked at her, perplexed. "I'm not mad," he said. "It was all dealt with at the disciplinary."

"I think he needs to hear that from you. Not as a commander. As his lover. There's a difference, you know."

Squall swallowed hard. "I don't understand."

Quistis opened her mouth to explain, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Squall never listened when it came to psychology. He had to find it out for himself.

"Just talk to him."

"But I never know what to say." Squall started to polish his gunblade gently, smoothing the cloth over it in small circles.

"Start with 'how are you feeling my fluffy bunnikins,' and take it from there." Quistis allowed herself a smirk. Irvine and Squall made a lovely couple, and she'd even caught them holding hands in public a few times, but they were completely and unavoidably manly about it.

Squall shot her a glare, tempered by one of his tiny smiles. He was getting used to being teased, at least. It had taken a year or so, but Quistis counted it as progress. And for all that they were understated, they were gorgeous, heart-stopping, beautiful smiles.

"You could start by asking him what happened," she suggested.

"Alright. I'll try," he said, doubtfully.

"Good." Quistis got to her feet, wincing at muscles that ached more than ever for sitting still after so intense a workout. "Now, if you don't mind, I have an appointment with my bathtub."

* * * * * * *

Squall entered Irvine's room quietly, resting his gunblade against the wall just inside the door before he went through to the bedroom. As he'd expected, Irvine was still in bed, propped up on pillows like an invalid, watching some crap on television.

Sometimes Squall was tempted to go sabotage the transmitter towers himself. He was firmly of the opinion that the world was a better place without TV. Except possibly for the Galbadian porno channels. But Irvine wasn't watching porn. Which, Squall realised, was a sure fire indicator that something wasn't right.

"Hey," he said. It came out more gruffly than he'd intended; not because he was mad as much as that the sight of Irvine in bed, wearing no more than an old t-shirt with the arms ripped off, seemed to turn his voice deep and gravelly whether he liked it or not.

"Hi." Irvine smiled wanly at him. "You were gone ages."

"Had a few kinks to work out," said Squall.

"Oh."

Squall found himself waiting for Irvine to produce some kind of witty comeback to that, but it didn't happen. Instead, Irvine's eyes were pulled back to the flickering images on the TV, his good hand poised, about to press the button on the remote to take off the mute button...

Squall launched himself onto the bed, and wrestled the remote out of Irvine's hand, quickly turning off the television before tossing it to the floor. He sat astride a surprised looking Irvine, and held his gaze.

"TV gone," said Irvine, plaintively.

"Too fucking right," said Squall. "I want you to tell me about the accident."

"What about the accident?" said Irvine defensively.

"What happened. All of it. From start to finish."

"You already know. You were presiding over the disciplinary, after all."

"Yes, but... that was different. I want you to tell me again, as if I didn't know already."

Irvine's eyes narrowed and he peered at Squall through narrow, suspicious slits. "Why?"

Squall didn't really have an answer to that question, except 'Quistis said so', which sounded too lame for words. "Humour me," he said eventually.

Irvine sighed heavily. "Alright. I went to the hoverboard fair with Zell, I got bored and wandered off. They were having this chocobo trial and I thought why the fuck not - and yes, I know we're not supposed to show off or get involved with gambling or act in any way that might bring Garden into disrepute, but. But. I was bored. I didn't think any harm would come of it. I mean, Squall, d'you know how many different kind of weighting systems there are for hoverboards? And Zell wanted to work out the gravity ratios of every. Single. One. And talk about it. Endlessly."

Squall toyed absently with the ragged hem of Irvine's top. He had to concede that he'd never shared Zell's enthusiasm for hoverboards. But still. Rules were rules.

"You could've done something else to entertain yourself," he said.

"Yes, I could. But you weren't there, and it was all so dull. Besides, I didn't plan it to turn out like it did."

"You could've guessed."

"Well, I didn't, okay? I thought I'd be impressive, collect the Gil and meet up with Zell in time to go home. How was I to know it was rigged?"

Squall had to smile at that. For a man of the world, a killer and the most perceptive person Squall knew, Irvine really did have his stupid moments.

Irvine ignored the smile, and continued. "It was a rogue chocobo. It threw me, trampled on me, humiliated me, and now I'm grounded, suffering Hyne only knows what agony, and you're mad at me. Okay?"

"I'm not mad at you," said Squall.

"Oh yeah? So how come you're forever glaring and snarling at me, telling me I'm pathetic and spending as much time as you can elsewhere?"

Squall's mouth opened ready with fierce denial, only to snap shut almost immediately. Irvine was right, he realised. "You're not exactly fun to be around," he said. "Moaning all the time and-"

"Yeah, well. You'd moan too, if you were stuck in bed in all kinds of pain with a pissy boyfriend."

"Pissy?!"

"Yeah. Pissy."

Squall glowered at him.

"Yeah. Like that."

Squall made to move away, but Irvine grabbed his arm. "Shit. I'm sorry. That was out of order. I hate being cooped up all day, is all. Don't go."

Squall settled back on Irvine's thighs, wrenching his arm out of his grasp.

"I understand," said Irvine. "Really I do. I know it's embarrassing for you, having to discipline your own boyfriend and all. I'm sorry."

And then, slowly, like the solution to a particularly complicated puzzle, things started to come clear in Squall's mind.

"It's not that," he said, softly.

"No?" Irvine frowned up at him,

"It's more..." Squall struggled for words. "I feel guilty," he said.

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because you weren't doing anything wrong." The words came out with a long, exasperated sigh. "Fuck it, we all get bored. You were really unlucky. And even if you were breaking a few rules... it seems barbaric, that's all."

"Rules are rules, man," said Irvine, his voice soft, expression gentle. "I understand that. No magical cures for self-inflicted injury."

"It feels like I'm responsible," said Squall. "All this time, when you've been in pain - it's like it's me who's hurting you, and I can't bear it. I'm sorry."

"Oh," said Irvine, and reached up to brush his fingertips against Squall's face, suddenly, terrifyingly tender.

"Don't do that," said Squall, making no move to brush his hand away.

"Why not?"

"I'm trying to do the talking thing."

"Actions speak louder than words," said Irvine, and tugged on his hair, pulling him down to kiss.

Squall wasn't about to disagree with him. Especially with Irvine's tongue slipping into his mouth, slick and agile, Irvine's good hand sliding up the back of his shirt. Squall kissed him back enthusiastically, shifting his body around to press his thigh against the growing ridge of hardness between Irvine's legs. He broke the kiss to sit back and push his lover's shirt smoothly up his body, trailing kisses up from his belly button to breastbone before pausing to slip the soft fabric over his arms and head, careful not to jolt the injured wrist. He pulled his own t-shirt over his head, while Irvine showed off by undoing Squall's belts and trousers one-handed. Before Irvine could reach in and claim his cock, however, Squall shimmied back, dipping his head to kiss and lick at Irvine's nipples, forcing himself to tease.

He slowly dropped kiss after kiss on the golden skin spread out before him: on ribs and belly, the soft, sensitive flesh at his waist, the clean angle of his hip. He nuzzled the soft hair between Irvine's legs, letting his tongue slip out here and there to taste him. Irvine groaned and arched his back, the perfect opportunity for Squall to slide his hands underneath him to cup the plump round cheeks of his ass; he kissed and licked his way up the ridge of Irvine's cock, brushing his lips and tongue-tip over the head, so softly that Irvine started to whimper. He kissed the very end, swiping his tongue over the little slit to taste the juices that pooled there, before opening his mouth wide and stuffing it with Irvine's thick cock. He paused for a moment with his lips clamped around the root, enjoying the taste and feel of it, hot and silky against his tongue. Breathing hard through his nose, he sucked a little before backing off, and started to move his head up and down in a strong, even rhythm, pausing every now and then to lash his tongue over the end.

He waited until he could feel Irvine's cock swelling in his mouth, about to shoot, and then he stopped. Took his mouth away, ignoring the urgent press of Irvine's fingers against his skull, and shifted off Irvine's body to scramble out of his pants. Suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to be filled and fucked... Irvine was still gasping from the shock at having his pleasure snatched away, as Squall frantically searched the drawer for lube.

He found the well-used bottle, hidden among bits of rifle and pens and fuck knew what, and... something else.

Squall smiled to himself.

"Squall," Irvine murmured plaintively, "fuck, man, I..."

"Right here," said Squall, quickly preparing himself first, before sitting astride Irvine's legs once more. "Close your eyes."

Without a thought Irvine's long-lashed eyes fluttered shut, even white teeth nibbling on his lower lip, his long hair flowing over the pillow, rust and burnt copper. Breathtakingly beautiful.

Squall poured a generous pool of multicoloured liquid into his palm, and drizzled it over the length of Irvine's cock. Irvine gasped and arched, the potion seeping into his skin in a dazzling fizz of rainbow colours. Squall wasted no time, grasping Irvine's cock by the root and impaling himself on it, sinking down slowly, relishing the glorious sensation of been stuffed and tickled and rubbed all at once.

He rode Irvine for a while, forcing himself to keep it slow, make it last...

Then Irvine's eyes fluttered open, a desperate, apologetic look in his indigo eyes. "I... can't..." And then his eyes closed again. He was biting his lip hard enough to bruise now, as he fought the urge to come.

Squall grabbed the elixir bottle, and took a generous swig, not swallowing. He leaned down, hands braced either side of Irvine's head, and waited until Irvine's hips surged up to meet his with a particular urgency, until Irvine's cock started to throb deep inside his ass, and then he dipped his head and kissed him, elixir spilling from his mouth to Irvine's, fizzing on lips and tongues. It bathed them in blue light for an instant as the magic flowed through them both at the same time, the rush and the expression on Irvine's face enough to send Squall over the top, the world a haze of sweet blue magic as he came, spurting endlessly on Irvine's pulsing body.

The next thing he knew he was holding himself up on shuddering arms, panting, head drooping, Irvine's cock still half hard and twitching inside of him. He should have felt exhausted, but the elixir had restored him, leaving him quivering from pleasure, not fatigue. Irvine was raining kisses all over his face and hair, behaving like some love-struck teenager.

Squall rather liked that.

"Why?" asked Irvine breathlessly, once he'd apparently decided Squall had been sufficiently kissed.

Squall shrugged, a little smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"There's got to be some kind of perks to sleeping with the boss," he said.

Irvine grinned.

"How's the ankle?"

"All better," said Irvine. "And the wrist. The cast still itches like mad, though."

Squall snorted. "You'll have to get used to that until the day it was supposed to come off," he said. "If you breathe a word to anyone..."

"Oh, I won't. SeeD oath. Absolutely. I'll pretend to be an injured, self pitying little cowboy for as long as you like."

If it were possible, the grin on Irvine's face got even broader.

"I love you," he pronounced.

"Yeah, well." Squall cautiously pulled himself up, aware that Irvine was already stiffening again inside of him. "So long as you're grateful."

"Oh yeah," said Irvine. "Very."

Squall had only the glint in Irvine's eyes as warning, before he found himself swiftly and expertly rolled over onto his back. Irvine had managed it without even slipping out of him, and suddenly he found himself lying there, wrapping his legs around Irvine's back as they started to fuck all over again.

"Of course, Commander..." said Irvine, his hair swishing softly over Squall's chest, stiffening already sensitive nipples. "... it would probably count as self-inflicted injury if we fucked ourselves insensible."

Squall grinned wickedly at him, and tugged Irvine's head down for a kiss.

"I'll risk it," he murmured.

 

_~Owari~_


End file.
